The Bucket List
by honey-locks-and-silver-streaks
Summary: "Let's do it." His words hung in the balance, threatening to tip the scale of all that was right in the world. In search of everything life has to offer, Hermione finds herself affiliated with non other than the infamous Draco Malfoy after leaving her home behind. Everything she's ever dreamed of, including exotic ice cream, is at her finger tips. Of course, only for a fair price.
1. I Was NOT Hiding

**Hey Guys! Long time no hear from eh? Yeah well the beginning of August anyway. So this is my present to you. Back to school present if you want. Or a hurry up and give me something to do other than homework present, that works too. **

**So basically this is one of my many first chapter instalments (even though some of my other first chapter instalments already have more than one. i.e. Capella. Whatever.) Anyway I'm super serious this time okay. Once all of my stories are put up you guys have a week to vote on my pole! It will tell me which story you guys want me to continue with the most!**

**So do it. Vote for me please. And yourselves too, otherwise you might not get the story you want. But hopefully you like all the stories I present to you.**

**So this is the list of stories that SHOULD be up.** **One Chapter Instalments:**

**She's the One**

**Capella**

**Before the Worst**

**I Just Want My Life Back!**

**The Bucket List**

**Possibly my side project which you will probably here about later during each of my updates, I've got a name picked out already. It won't be a story that has a plot line that you follow chapter after chapter. It'll be a bunch of one shots that relate in one specific way but hopefully you'll enjoy it none the less.**

***Side Note. SOOO! I re-wrote this first chapter. Not a lot has changed from the original, its just as I was writing the second I thought of some things that _really_ should be included in this chapter, so I re-read it, edited it, touched it up, and now you guys have a sort of brand new chapter. Except not really, more like a fixed up and good as new chapter. Anyway! By the time this chapter replaces the old 1rst chapter, I'm hoping the second chapter will be up and running :D **

**So enough of my talking, enjoy!**

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_Alcohol, because no good story started with a salad- Author Unknown_

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Life works in mysterious ways. Change is a close friend of Life and Misery loves company. Which means it's only natural that they make their appearance known every so often, more often than some would like.

Life's a funny thing, when it's not happening to you.

Just looking around the bar she was sitting in now could show you how much things had changed in the last few weeks. She was currently seated in a small pub that looked on the verge of bankruptcy. The rustic red paint was peeling off the walls, leaving the original wall paper beneath; a robin's egg floral pattern. The tiles that covered the floors were cracked; some were even slanted as if they were just waiting to trip the next person who was already a little unstable on their feet. Dim lights were flickering above her head at a very unsteady rate, which resulted in her current headache. Actually, she shouldn't blame her unfortunate headache on the indecisive lights above, since this headache seemed ever present since she'd left her lovely home back in London.

Tables were scattered around the room with different types of chairs in various colors, and the bar had only a handful of customers other than herself. An old man was seated off in the corner by himself, and a couple who'd pushed their chairs tight together, obviously busy with each other, was seated close to a large window near the door.

She was the only one occupying a stool at the bar. And the solitary movement in the room was a bartender who was whipping off the bar top with what she presumed was at one point a white rag. The silence was deafening. It wasn't completely silent, little sounds here and there filled the room. But that only seemed to increase the eeriness that accompanied the silence. Soft music played over head, static cutting in and out often effectively covering up the unpleasant sounds coming from the couple behind her every so often. The sound of her drink splashing against the side of its glass was accompanied by a similar sound coming from the old man in the corner, though he held a bottle, not a glass.

If you could look past the peeling paint and broken tiles, and imagine the place less vacant, you could really see the charm it held. It was probably a top establishment for the little bar that it was back in its day. She could see the walls looking newly painted, the tiles brand new as well. Music played from a top of the line stereo system, and bodies filled the room. It was a time when more than one man was needed to run the small business. It held life and promise. But for as of right now, Hermione was entirely convinced that it was highly unlikely this bar had seen anyone of great importance, or a citizen belonging to a higher class, walk through its green door in a _very_ long time. Probably one of the reasons she enjoyed it so much. That and the bar tender was really nice. Treating everyone that walked through his door all the same, with politeness and compassion.

She didn't know which was worse though considering her position. A, that at the age of 20 she chose this of all places to spend her night, or B, that she often chose to spend her nights here.

Perhaps it was worse that not only was she sitting alone, in a rundown bar, in some foreign country with a slightly alcoholic beverage in her hand, but that she couldn't help herself from strolling down memory lane.

The world was now, and has been Voldemort free for a little more than two years, and everyone was finally getting on with their lives. This was supposed to be the happiest time of her life. She was young, with little to no responsibility, and Harry had been going on and on about finally getting to act their age since the war had finished. No one needed them to save the world, they had no obligations, out on their own, they could party all night long if they wanted to. Something Harry and Ron took far too literally at first for her liking. They could celebrate and do whatever it was that twenty year olds did. She was supposed to be _happy. _

A few months after they'd graduated and the aftershock of the war had settled, her friends had begun preparing for their futures. And for the longest time, she thought she was right along with them doing the same thing.

Harry had bucked up the courage to ask Ginny out. He and Ron had begun their training to become highly imperative Aurors, and Ginny decided to pursue a career as a professional Quidditch player. Neville had become an intern for Professor Sprout in order to eventually take over her position as Herbology professor, and had recently started dating Hannah Abbott. Turns out he had much more in common with Hannah than he thought he did with Luna. George was dating Angelina, who all but denied that things were becoming quite serious; well as serious as things can get with a Weasley twin. Seamus was working with George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes inventing and producing explosive pranks to sell to the future 'Hell Raisers' of Hogwarts. Dean was broadcasting for professional Quidditch cups, and Luna was publisher of the Quibbler.

So in all these plans where was Hermione Granger?

She should have been having the time of her life too. She began working part time at Flourish and Bolts and started dating Ron right after the war. But things never felt right. She was in her dream job, yet going to work held no thrill. And she was with the man she'd been pining after for as long as she could remember, and still there was no thrill.

She had begun to feel pressured into doing what she was doing and being with who she was with. She grew up in love with books, so everyone thought that Flourish and Bolts was just the perfect place for her. But after a month or so she wasn't so sure. And she grew up in love with Ron. Until she started dating him, and realised she'd never been in love with him. People say love is just friendship on fire, but what she felt was friendship beside a match. There was potential, but then there really wasn't. She was just infatuated with the idea of Ron, that she and Ron could have the perfect love story. Friends first at a young age, then best friends, and eventually lovers. She could marry her best friend and the person that knew her best, and everything else could just fall into place. She could have her little farm house and her picket fence and the perfect fairy tale she'd imagined a hundred different ways.

She loved Ron. With all her heart, just as she loved Harry with all her heart. And there lies the problem. She loves Ron, the way she loves Harry, as a best friend, and nothing more. That's what their whole relationship had been. The only thing that changed when they started their relationship compared to how they were as friends, was that occasionally they went on dates and held hands, and every once in a while shared a kiss or two.

That wasn't what a relationship was supposed to feel like. And she was convinced Ron knew that too. That's why after almost two years of dating he proposed to her. In front of all their friends and family. In hopes that by adding marriage to the equation they could actually have something. But that wasn't the right thing to do. They both knew it, she could see it in his eyes when he was knelt before her. Worry, nervousness, stress, and yet still hopeful. He wanted it to work, and she did too. But it wasn't fair to either of them to condemn them to that kind of fate. That's how bad it was, she could use the word _condemn_ to describe their relationship.

She hesitated when he'd asked. Not one, two, three seconds of hesitation caused by shock, or surprise, but a minute or two of thoughts scrambling to make themselves heard in the appropriate hesitation time she had after something like that. She used up her time, all of it, she had begun thinking on borrowed time. Everything she'd wanted in her sixth year could be hers if she uttered one word.

But it wasn't that simple. She knew she wouldn't get everything she wanted with Ron if she accepted his proposal. She wasn't getting the Ron she'd dreamed of, the love, desire, and passion she'd dreamed of. She would however get the friendship with him she adored so much, but did she need to marry him to keep that friendship.

_No_ her mind had whispered. Why had she stayed with Ron for so long when they were obviously so wrong together? Why had she not broken it off when she had started noticing her friends changing due to the after effects the war had brought on? Just off the top of her head Ron had changed a lot. The publicity had started going to his head, inflating his already large ego. She'd often found herself wondering if Ron had simply remained in their 'relationship' because the media loved to write stories about the 'blossoming romance between two parties of the Golden Trio'. And she hated herself for it. Ron was her friend, he stayed because they were friends, and they would always be friends. He didn't want to hurt her, she had successfully convinced herself of that now. At least, she had almost successfully convinced herself of that. She tried to reason with herself that the only explanation of Dennis Creevey's, future aspiration: Daily Prophet Editor, presence at the Burrow when he proposed was because they knew him in school and though they were never overly close with Dennis, they had known Colin quite well.

Money became a big thing for him, never having had much of it when he grew up. But that was understandable. At least, she told herself it was. The money hadn't taken over Harry's life even though he came from a home that offered him much less than Ron. But Harry had never been taunted for not having enough unlike Ron had, at least, she didn't think he had. The last few months before her departure she had spent more and more time convincing herself she was where she wanted to be. Except, she shouldn't _have _to convince herself she was where she needed to be. It should come naturally, it should feel _right _for Merlin's sake. She spent hours telling herself she was being unreasonable, that she was where she was _meant _to be. Until she just couldn't take it anymore. All of these emotions and thoughts that had been building up inside of her for months on end were becoming too much for her to handle.

In a moment reality came crashing down on her. She couldn't do it. She wasn't ready for it, not ready to condemn herself to such a life when something told her she could have more. She knew then, and probably had for a long time, that she was missing something. Some part of her life was absent; like a jig saw puzzle that's missing the last piece.

That's how she ended up here, in her current position. She left. She apologized, quietly, barley above a whisper. First to Ron, then to her friends and family, then to Ron again. She repeatedly apologized, shaking her head as if trying to clear her thoughts that were getting oh so tangled and loud. She packed her bags, grabbing everything she couldn't leave behind and took the next train out of there. Literally. But what seemed like a good idea at the time had gotten her nowhere. Leaving had gotten her absolutely nowhere in life.

Well, almost nowhere. It had led her here, which was pretty close to nowhere. She'd taken dozens of trains, and boats, and ferries, and taxis, until she reached this little town in Sydney Australia. She could have apparated, but she needed the time to think. All those hours spent traveling gave her _ample_ time to think.

To think about why she and Ron had stayed together so long, and what she was searching for. What she would do when she got where she was going. What she wanted, why she wanted it, why she thought getting away from everything familiar to her was a good way to figure out any of these questions.

In the end, she got her answer to one of them, maybe even two. Staying with Ron, _being_ with Ron was safe. She knew Ron like she knew the books in Hogwarts' library. She knew what he liked and what he disliked. She knew how to handle him when he became impossible or impulsive, or when he was acting childish. She knew where to find him when he ran off, and when to leave him alone. She knew all his signs and signals, and she knew his secrets and his past. She didn't need to impress Ron, she didn't need to be afraid of humiliating herself in front of Ron. She didn't need to worry that Ron might not like what he saw, or care for her opinions, or whether or not they could get along. Because she knew his opinions and she knew his thoughts, and she knew they got along just fine.

Maybe that was the problem. She knew him, too well. Too well for anything more to happen between them. Ginny was constantly worried what Harry thought of her when he saw her, or if Harry would like her dress. Hermione never worried about those things with Ron. Lavender worried about whether or not her flavour of the week would like her, or ask her out again, or if he liked her smile or her personality. Most of that was inevitable for Hermione, of course Ron liked her, they were best friends, and of course she would see him again, they were after all _best friends._ Maybe if she'd actually felt something romantic for him she would have worried about all those things. Not worrying took the spark out of things, there was no risk in being with Ron. And if there was one thing she'd learned from all their adventures, life needed a little risk. The greater the risk, the greater the reward.

That's also when she realised why she needed to get away. Her whole life was safe, there was no challenge, no adventure, no risk, no thrill. She was twenty and she knew what she was going to do the next day and the day after that and a month from then and five years down the road. As much as she was for planning ahead, twenty year olds should not know their daily routine in five years for Merlin's sake! They should have something to look forward to in their life, a mystery to their future, and the opportunities to take as many risks as they could.

It had been a long time since she'd been content with a decision she'd made. Finally, she was content with a decision; this decision.

The first thing she did when she reached her new destination was write to Harry, Ginny, George, Luna, Neville, and eventually Ron apologizing profusely and explaining hastily that she just couldn't do it. She needed something, and what she needed wasn't there, and marrying Ron most definitely wasn't it. It was short, to the point, and probably not what they wanted to hear. She didn't worry about them and their wants or their feelings at that point in time. She didn't give them a return address. She didn't want to be found. Not until her she'd figured things out a little bit. Her letters to Harry and Ginny were longer and offered more explanation than any of the other letters. Ron's letter was the shortest, and consisted of only one word. _Sorry,_ she'd written, hastily hoping she could leave without confrontation. Never in her life had she felt so un-Gryffindor like than she did in that moment. But she could worry about her sudden cowardice at a later point in time.

Three and a half weeks ago a small town a mile outside of Sydney Australia had become her temporary home. Renting a small apartment three blocks down the street and making it into her new home she began living her new life. She worked at a coffee shop when she could; picking up shifts whenever, and started to really focus on sorting out the tangle of strings that made up her life. She was trying to tie up some loss ends without even knowing where the rope started. Which she found proved to be rather problematic.

A week ago she'd decided she knew what she was missing. She had no home, lost touch with her friends, broke off a mildly serious relationship and had no career. She was aware of what she was missing. The question was what would fill those voids that could satisfy her. She'd crossed of friends and relationships, she didn't want any replacements for those slots. Maybe the later, eventually, because Merlin knew she couldn't go back to Ron and pick things up where they'd left off. So that left her in need of a new home, and finding a career that made working exciting again. This was at least a start, not the fresh start she was looking for, but it was as close as she was ever going to get to her 'fresh start'.

How a fresh start landed her in a rundown bar on a Tuesday late at night over a week later, she hadn't a clue. Probably the same way it had landed her in this exact stool two or three nights a week starting three weeks ago.

A deep sigh left her lips as she continued twirling the purple drink she'd ordered half an hour ago. Where had the good life gone? Where had _her_ plans gone? How had she gone from a bushy haired, first year student keen on her studies, to an adult and a war heroine with responsibilities, and then to a woman in an empty bar in what seemed like only a handful of moments?

Most would agree that she missed out on her childhood, because of Voldemort and all that. Having to save the world numerous times could put a bit of a damper on your childhood. But right now, if she didn't get her life together and back on track, and soon, she'd say she was going to miss out on the most important years of her adulthood as well.

"You know, you can tell when a lass is doing a great deal of thinkin' when there's very little drinkin'." She nearly jumped from her seat as a voice from across the bar startled her from her thoughts. Looking up the vibrant blue eyes belonging to the bartender were looking down upon her with a hint of concern.

"You can tell?" She glanced back down to the half empty purple drink in her hand still swirling from her earlier glass twirling. Even though she'd been here probably half a dozen nights before, and talked to the bartender on a few occasions, not once had she felt like she was actually talking to a _bartender._ She rarely used him as an ear to listen to her troubles, or asked for advice on what to do. Unlike many of the few customers she'd seen walk through that door looking for a way to drown their sorrows. It was a weird feeling. The two of them usually discussed current events, or passing thoughts.

"Years in the business lass." He spoke with the Irish accent she adored listening to. "Now what has such a pretty face like yours troubled?" She always wondered what it was that made someone want to confess their sorrows to a bartender. She never actually thought she'd be partaking in that classic exchange thought. She guessed it was loneliness that drove someone to confess their deepest regrets to a complete stranger. Or a charming smile. Or maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just the small fact that someone was willing to listen when no one else was. Maybe it was because they were indeed a _complete_ stranger that you would never see again, and therefore you could not be judged later on.

"You already know bits and parts of the story." She smiled at him before looking back down at her drink.

"Knowing bits and parts of a story is like only reading a few pages of a book and being expected to write a summarizing review on the whole novel. You can't possibly know how a lassie's feeling or what's on 'er mind by a few words exchanged." He smiled his friendly smile that kept her coming back to this bar every few nights. "Plenty o' times you cannot tell what's on a woman's mind until she right out tells ya 'er problem. Sometimes not even then." She laughed at his obvious opinion on the difficulty of interpreting a women's words.

"It's a long story." She warned him

"Aren't they all though?" He winked. "Besides, I've got plenty of time." He motioned towards the practically empty bar and she felt another laugh bubble in her throat. She found she rarely laughed anymore. Only here, talking to him, sometimes the customers at work. But nothing like she used to do when she was in London, surrounded by her friends. Quickly she shook her head to rid her mind of that depressing thought.

Whatever the reason after only a brief moment of hesitation she began retelling her previous thoughts aloud to the bartender. Even the thoughts he'd already heard in bits and pieces over the previous nights. He did not rush her along when she repeated those parts. He smiled knowingly just like he had the first time she'd told him a few of the thoughts that kept her mind occupied when nothing else did.

He did not talk as she spoke. He nodded and agreed when necessary, and smiled encouragingly when she felt she was becoming a bore. She hadn't talked to him for any period of time as lengthy as she found herself talking with him tonight. And as she spoke she found herself analyzing his features. His sandy blonde hair fell just above his eyes in an even mixture of curls and waves. His eyes changed colours often. They were bluest when he smiled and paler when he seemed intent on listening. They held gray and green flecks around the irises that seemed to disappear every now and then. When he smiled she noticed his smile was gentle and full of life; cheeks slightly chubby, eyes ever so crinkled.

Leaning against the bar, forearms resting on the counter top, she couldn't tell just how tall he was, but he seemed to be of average height. Possibly an inch or two taller than average. He looked as if he was in his mid-thirties, but the childlike features that hadn't yet been removed from his face with age combined with his smile, so kind and full of life, made him look years younger. The name tag on his green striped shirt read:_ Sam._ The short, friendly name suited him in her opinion.

All in all she decided he was handsome. He wasn't stunning like the male characters in the unrealistic romance novels that her mother read during her free time. He was the kind of handsome that instead of attracting attention left, right, and centre from by passers, his kind features could be appreciated by anyone glancing his way. His appearance was warm and welcoming, and his charming and friendly persona only enhanced his good looks.

Soon her story was finished, and she hadn't an idea of what to say next. Sam however seemed to know exactly what questions to ask. _Years in the business lass,_ his voice repeated in her head.

"So what's do you think is next for ya?" The crooked smile on his face made him look like a teenager. His boyish grin full of excitement as if he was the one going on an adventure.

"I don't know." She still didn't. She still had no clue. After weeks of thinking, she still couldn't put her finger on what was missing.

"You took trains, and boats, and every other mode of transportation all the way from England to this little place, hardly any money, hardly any possessions, and you don't know what you're going to do next? Perhaps it's time to start doing instead of thinking. Go out on your whim, and jump without putting on a parachute." She smiled. He was so optimistic, but he didn't know she simply couldn't do that. She wished she could, but it was going to take much more than a simple suggestion before she took any major risks without back up plans.

And that right there was her problem. She couldn't take one step forward without looking three steps in every direction. Preparing for any possibility, so focused on the future that she couldn't embrace the here and now. And yet, none of that worrying and preparation had proven helpful thus far.

"I can't." She shook her head, avoiding his eyes.

"You won't find anything worth searchin' for if you don't take a few risks along the way lass." She couldn't help but smile. That sounded like something you'd find in a fortune cookie. Were all bartenders like Sam full of corny advice?

Before she could add to their previous conversation the bell chimed behind her and Sam's eyes lifted to the door. Not paying any attention to the person who just walked in, she gulped down the last of her fruity purple drink. Before she could even set down her glass another had been set in front of her.

"This one's on the house dearie. You've got a lot of thinking to do." With that Sam winked and walked back to the center of the bar.

She looked over and found a brunette had taken a place at the last stool. Shaking water out of her jacket Hermione realized it must have been raining out. The girl was pretty, very pretty. In a manner similar to Sam's. Her dark brown hair ended at the small of her back in wet curls and her straight bangs clung to her forehead. Her brown eyes twinkled with laughter, so full of life. Her nose was small yet proportionate to her face, and her smile light up the room better than the flickering lights above them. She seemed far too happy to be drenched and sitting in a rundown bar. Much to Hermione's surprise, she didn't order a drink like the rest of the customers she'd seen during her many visits. Instead she got some sort of burger and chips combo.

Something about the way that brunette seemed so care free made her think she'd found what it was in life she needed. She seemed to know where she was going in life, and yet she looked as if she knew there was still some mystery to her future. She wanted that. She wanted to feel secure in her life like she felt this girl beside her did so much that she felt jealousy burning in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to be able to walk in the rain, be drenched to the core, then find shelter in some roach motel or some other rundown place and still be able to smile like it was the first day of summer.

She threw back her glass swallowing half her drink in one go. Her throat burned intensely enough to rival the burning sensation still coursing around in the pit of her stomach.

She sat there, fore how long she didn't know. At first minutes dragged on slowly, then faster till everything around her became nothing but a blur. Too focused on her own thoughts to pay attention to the girl that sat beside her anymore. Was she still there? Had she ordered a drink yet?

The sound of a chiming bell became frequent enough that she didn't feel the need to turn over her shoulder and take in the appearance of the new stranger. Each person that stepped foot into the bar seemed to be wetter than the previous. Hardly any of the new visitors in the bar had ordered anything since they'd walked in. Each waiting for the storm to pass, or a ride to take them through it.

Breaking free of her thoughts she snuck a glance in the Brunette's previous direction. She was still there. Sam was still talking to her a few stools down from where Hermione sat, getting a drink now and then for occupants of the bar that wanted to pass time, most of them free of charge. Soon the chatter that filled the bar diminished into silence as people filled out. The storm must have finally calmed.

When she heard the last chime of a bell she figured the last of the new comers had departed. The idea that it might be someone else, walking into a bar late at night was immediately waved off.

There were five bar stools in total, two of which were already taken. She took up one end stool and the other end stool was hosting the young brunette. She'd bet five galleons that the brunette at the end of the bar looked far more friendly than she.

So when the stool next to her became occupied she couldn't resist glancing at the body that had occupied the stool.

She wished she hadn't. A patch of overly white blonde hair caught her eyes immediately before she looked away. Based on the fairness of the man's skin and hair along with his aristocratic facial features and the drawl in which he spoke, he reminded her of someone she'd rather not see anytime soon. Oh how she hoped she was wrong.

She really didn't want a confrontation with said man, if she did indeed guess correctly who he was. But she couldn't necessarily jump up and bolt for the door either. She was trapped. If she stood and left he'd surely get a glimpse of her and though she liked to think she's grown up in the past few years, she was still very recognizable. Her best chance was that if she did leave he'd let her go without making a scene. If he was still the same man she once knew, that possibility was very unlikely. Her next best option would be to sit and wait for him to leave.

With that decided she let her hair fall over her shoulders acting as a curtain, shielding her face from the fair haired man's view. She began counting in her head trying to occupy her thoughts. The man beside her finished his drink, a muggle beer, within a few minutes. Slowly, as minutes passed she began to relax. If he hadn't called on her within the first ten minutes, it was unlikely that he would indeed mention her presence later in the night. Right? Maybe he didn't even recognize her. Maybe it wasn't even him. She was wrong.

She remained silent, fiddling with her drink, hoping she could obtain the power to turn invisible. Normally she wouldn't be shrinking away from Malfoy, but she hadn't the energy to fight with him today. She hoped it was the same for him. Unfortunately she was wrong again.

"I _can_ see you Granger." Malfoy drawled, taking a drink from what she figured was his third beer.

Cursing under her breath she turned her head to face him giving him her best glare under the circumstances. "I know."

"Then why were you hiding?" His tone amused by her previous, obviously obvious actions.

"I was not hiding." Tonight would be a long night indeed.

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**So there you guys have it. First instalment of my Bucket List/ Dramione rendition. So, let me know if you guys like it. I'm not going to lie when I feel like writing I usually look over my reviews for my stories and try and pin point which stories I have the most eager readers with. I really love getting reviews, they make me want to publish chapter after chapter at a lightning speed. I do love hearing what you guys have to say, and what you guys want to have happen.**

**On another note, I do apologize in advance for any slow updates, hopefully these chapters will be long enough to tide you over. Maybe between updates you guys will predict how you think this story is going to go, or you might think of an idea you'd like to read about and you could PM it to me.**

**Now that being said, if you guys have any ideas where you want this to go, any plot ideas LET ME KNOW! I'd be super excited to hear your ideas. This story is supposed to be as exciting for you as it is for me so don't be afraid to tell me. **

**Maybe you'd like to tell me what's on your bucket list, I don't know. But don't be afraid to share, and I love love love reviews.**

**Thanks so much for reading guys, hope you enjoyed it, enjoy the rest of your day/week/month whatever. **** Maybe I'll hear from a few of you soon ;)**

**-Dini 3**


	2. What Else Do You Want!

**Hello Hello Hello! How are you guys! Long time no hear from (well, at least on this story). I know this story wasn't the winner of the first chapter only contest I had up and running, but sometimes you just wanna write right, and sometimes its just not for what you had intended. And so for the last little while as I've been trying to sort out my life and get everything in order and stay on top of the chaos that is everyday life, I've been waiting for the perfect moment to write another chapter for this story. **

**Well, I've finally decided to post this one, so tada! Here you guys go! For all of you that are hanging in there with me, thank you! If you were hoping for a Capella update when you perhaps saw this in your notifications or email or what ever because you're one of the loveliest people ever who subscribed (sure?) to me, then I apologize. But a new chapter for Capella is on the way, Pinky Promise!**

**Anyway, I do not own Harry Potter, sometimes I pretend like I do, and that's where you get these stories from! Everything but the plot twist in her belongs to J.K. (i.e. characters, magical inventions, the whole shabang) **

**-Enjoy!**

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Merlin was a cruel bastard. Her head was killing her. What had she done to deserve this much pain? She tried rubbing slow circles on the sides of her head, and pinching the bridge of her nose, and throwing a cold arm over her eyes to shield them from the offending light, and when that didn't work, she smothered her face deeper into her pillow. How long she'd been lying semi-awake was a mystery. What felt like an hour to her in this state of pain was probably only two or three minutes.

She wished she could say last night was nothing but a memory, but it wasn't even that. Every attempt she'd made this morning since she'd woken up to remember anything that happened last night had turned up blank. Nothing but a black fuzzy screen. At best sometimes she heard muffled voices, but rarely did she catch full sentences.

She was just glad she hadn't woken up to some stranger occupying the other half of her bed. Not that that had ever happened to her before, but Lavender had told her countless stories about waking up in the morning to a man who was ten times better looking the night before. She'd even told her how a few times she'd recognised the same man from some of her other drunken escapades. Lavender blamed it on the fact that he was a usual customer at one of the bars she liked to hang out at, meaning it was inevitable that she'd find herself in the same situation with the same stranger more than once. Hermione blamed it on low alcohol tolerance and her even lower standards.

It came to much of a shock to everybody when Lavender and Hermione actually became quite good friends. Once you got passed her loud personality and occasionally her banshee like voice, she could be a very nice girl. She knew she'd harboured serious feelings for Ron even after the two of them had called it quits back in fifth year, and yet not once did she try to come between her and Ron. She was actually very supportive on numerous occasions when they'd had a falling out.

Except Ron was never right for her. She loved him, but like a best friend. For so long she'd wished she could love him like she was supposed to love him, and maybe that's what kept her holding on for so long. But maybe now he could find the love he deserved in someone else, someone who wanted a real romantic relationship with him. Perhaps someone like Lavender.

She couldn't keep thinking about him though. She needed to move on. She was in a foreign country, searching for whatever it was she needed to feel content in her life. She couldn't sit here and mope about her friends back home. But what she needed to do right now was find a way to make the remainder of her splitting headache disappear.

Of course Merlin would have it that just when she finally felt like her headache was subsiding, someone began pounding on her door. She ignored it. She ignored for a second time when the said intruder knocked on her door once more. Someone obviously could not take a hint. Groaning in a rather monstrous tone she managed to sum up enough energy to pull herself off her mattress into a sitting position.

Immediately she regretted that decision. Her head exploded in pain the moment she was sitting upright and vertical. It felt like a freight train had run into the side of her head. Holding her head in hopes of squeezing the pain away, she waited until standing up anytime in the near future seemed like a possibility. In the meanwhile, whoever was so rudely hammering on her door at this unforgiving hour continued their rampage without hesitation.

Standing up at a turtle's speed in an effort to cause as little pain to her throbbing mind as possible, she let out a sigh of relief when she found she could move at this pace with only a slight throb. Hermione _almost_ made it her bedroom door before realising the only article of clothing she was currently sporting was an oversized t-shirt. Growling at the extra effort it would take to locate _and_ put on shorts of some kind Hermione made her way to the set of drawers this shabby hotel had supplied her with.

The knocking, much to her displeasure, continued. With one hand on her head keeping it from too much unnecessary motion, she moved as quickly as her hangover would allow towards her door.

"What!?" She screeched as she flung open her front door. Even more to her displeasure she realised that the interloper who had been knocking her door right off its hinges for the past ten minutes was none other than Malfoy. She would have preferred the continuous knocking to his presence any day.

"Is that anyway to treat a guest Granger?" She was in no mood for that Malfoy smirk so early in the morning.

"Guests are _invited_ Malfoy. Guests are usually _welcome_ when they show up at someone's door. You most certainly are not." She growled.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning Granger?" She glared at the man before her leaning ever so nonchalantly against her door frame.

"What do you want Malfoy?" She seethed, the throbbing in her mind making itself more and more known the longer she stood in his presence.

"Here." He said as he pushed a brown flask in her direction.

"What is this?" She cautiously took it from him, eyeing the potentially threatening object with care.

"It's a sober up potion. Thought you might need it given the amount of alcohol you consumed last night." He said.

"No thanks to you no doubt." She hissed.

"As I recall Granger when I walked in you already had a drink in your hand. You were obviously getting pissed drunk with, or without my aid." He smirked. She growled again in return. It wasn't often that she found herself in this predicament. Thanks to Lavender she made an effort not to make a habit of drinking. Much to their dismay, it was a weekly occurrence that Ginny and Lavender would show up at her door ready for a night out on the town bar hopping like no tomorrow, and they expected her to be more than thrilled about being dragged along.

Taking the flask she unscrewed the cap and sniffed its contents. It didn't smell exactly like a sober up potion. Believe it or not she made it a habit of hers to be familiar with many of the more common potions so she didn't end up ingesting, or handing someone else the wrong thing. Plus, that little habit of hers turned out to be quite handy thanks to Harry and Ron's party like behaviour.

"What else is in this flask Malfoy?" She glanced up at him, wondering if he too had woken up with a splitting headache much like her own.

"There's a little memory recovery potion mixed in with it." She couldn't tell if he was lying for not.

"You can't just mix potions Malfoy." She lectured him. He of all people should know the consequences of combining properties or substances once they were fully brewed. After all, he was her only real competition when it came to Potions with Professor Snape.

"I didn't just mix the potions Granger." He sneered, clearly wanting to be done and over with this exchange already.

"That's what you just said Malfoy." She began to argue not seeing how it was possible to have two potions in one. Was there even a memory recovery potion? She'd heard of a handful of partially effective memory recovery spells, but she'd rarely heard of memory recovery in a potion form. Memory recovery potions were usually unreliable as far as she knew, that's probably why she had little to no information on the topic. Why waste time on something that won't help you?

"I know what I said Granger. After all, the words did leave _my_ mouth." She opened her mouth to argue once more when he shook his head making it clear he wasn't finished. "This is a relatively new potion I put together a while back. It has all the properties of a sober up potion, but at the same time a slightly altered memory recovery potion as well. A normal, functioning memory recovery potion would search for memories someone had lost due to things like head injuries, or memories you had suppressed due to traumatic events. This type of memory recovery potion is suited specifically for the effects of alcohol. It only retrieves a fraction of your memories though. But some is better than none. And for your information, the two _mix_ just fine."

She stood dumbfounded at the man in her door way. If it had been anyone other than Malfoy she would have marvelled at his obviously advanced skill in potion making. But this was Malfoy, so she'd die before she gave him credit where credit was due.

"So you made this?" She asked hesitantly. He nodded, waiting to see her reaction.

"Well then I am sure as hell not drinking it." Surely he expected that reaction from her, the two weren't exactly on friendly terms.

"Oh for Merlin's sake Granger just drink the damn potion so we can get on with things." He threw his hands up in the air as if he were ready to storm away. _Good_ she thought.

"Why should I? Why would _you_ give this to _me_?" She snarled, even though she wanted nothing more than to down the flask's contents right then and there. Her headache was becoming increasingly unbearable. If it hadn't been for her stubbornness, she probably would have downed the flask the moment he'd explained its purpose.

It never occurred to her that he could be making an attempt to be civil, or pleasant towards her. And it was clear Malfoy had no further intention of explaining each of his actions to her.

"If you don't want it Granger then you can give it back." He made a reach for it, but defensively she stepped further into her home. Her actions were completely involuntary, but it was obvious her body had spoken for her.

"Fine." She muttered before pressing the flask to her lips and downing the liquid in one gulp. Surprisingly, it didn't taste as awful. "If that's all Malfoy,"

She stepped forward, already closing the door of her tiny rented motel room to the world outside when a foot wedged between the doorframe and the door.

"Not just yet Granger." Merlin what else did he want?

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**Now, I kid you not, for the last day and a half I have been debating on where to cut this chapter off. At first I was going to have it go on longer because, hellllooo its way to short for my reputation! But at the same time, as I continued righting the rest of it, it got far to long, and I can't have you guys expecting every chapter is going to be 6,000 words long. Nope, can't happen. Though, some chapters, don't be surprised if it does ;)**

**Apologies to the shortness of this chapter, but hey, the rest of it is like 3/4 done. Hoping to have it done today, and I'll update it as soon as I'm satisfied with the response of this chapter. (Yes I'm a little evil) I don't want to update it to soon, cause hey, I wanna give myself time to start on other chapters for other stories, but I SOOOO owe it to you guys for putting this story on such a hiatus. So, I won't keep you holding out for it for too long. Lets say, give or take around a week! :) **

**REMEMBER: That if you want to attempt to predict something that may happen, let me know ;) PM me, review to me. Send your suggestions my way! If I like them enough, maybe you'll get to read a rendition of your ideas here with shout outs and huge thank yous all around! **

**Keep me updated on your thoughts and feelings guys, I'm serious. Like, don't leave me outta the loop. Happens far to often to me in real life.**

**-Love you all lots, thanks to those of you that will favourite/follow/review and an even bigger thanks to those of you that have favourited/followed/reviewed thus far!**

**Till the next time!**


	3. The Lunatics 13 Floors Up

**Hello Again! **

**So, here's the third chapter, as I said, it was pretty much already done, but I'm still proud of myself! I was gonna leave you guys hanging in there a little longer, but then I thought, mmmm better not. Its already been so long since it was published, so here it is, tada!**

**As always, enjoy! And let me know what you think! Cause I love love love hearing from you guys!**

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Before she could register what was happening, he'd slipped past her and entered what was her temporary living room. That potion obviously drugged her. There's no way he slipped past her defenses so easily. Although her defenses only consisted of a partially closed door, and the strength of a woman who was just barely getting over her hangover. Still, it was _Malfoy_.

"So this is where the Golden Girl lives." He spoke as he surveyed her temporary home. "You'd think being the mastermind behind the Order of the Phoenix and the Golden Trio would pay more." If she wasn't still waiting for her headache to completely subside she would have slapped that condescending tone right out of his mouth. Who did he think he was to ridicule her living style?

Sure, this apartment wasn't what she was used to. But she was never the one who fantasized about living in a large, impractical home where there were rooms galore, and enough corridors to put Hogwarts to shame.

Her apartment, if you could call it that, consisted of one bedroom, one bathroom, an open kitchen, and a living room. The paint on these walls could use a more than a few touch ups, but the hardwood floor was sturdy, and only creaked every once in a while, like when she happened to use them. The living room was small. In it was a beige loveseat, an oak coffee table, and a chair. But that was all she needed. Fancy living rooms equipped with three couches, a fire place, a couple of chairs, and various tables were for people who liked to entertain their guests and put on parties. Something she was never too keen on.

The bathroom had a shower, a toilet, and a sink. All functioned adequately, and that was really all anyone needs. Her kitchen had the necessary appliances; a stove, a fridge, a sink, a table, and a microwave. Each of these appliances operated remotely well on a daily bases. And if they didn't, she could just head down the street to the coffee shop, or Sam's bar, and grab a bite to eat.

The walls were bare; she never decorated the walls, or anything else for that matter, because honestly, she hadn't planned on staying here this long. She didn't bring anything decorative with her when she left London, and with the amount of money she had, she didn't want to waste it on something she probably wouldn't take home again. So really, what was the point? A giant waste of time and money as she saw it.

All the while she was assessing her own living space, Malfoy had been making snippy remarks about everything and anything he could critique. Which really, was basically everything in her apartment.

"Do you normally live like a vagrant Granger? Or is this a new style you're trying on?" He smirked as he looked back at her. Shifting his weight from side to side purposely to the floors would creak under the pressure.

"If you don't like it Malfoy, you can leave." She crossed her arms over her chest and mustered up the most irritated glare she could send his way. "No one's forcing you to stay." She huffed.

"I just would have thought that Gryffindor's Princess would be living in some sort of palace by now or something." He said as he gave the room a final once over.

"How did you know where to find me anyway Malfoy?" Why she hadn't thought of this question earlier was beyond her.

"Your address was on your bar tab." He said smirking his notorious Malfoy smirk, obviously outrageously pleased with his cleverness.

"That's a little stalkerish don't you think Malfoy?" She mirrored his smirk. Not quite up to par with his, but she'd work on that later.

"Don't flatter yourself Granger." His smirk fell.

"Why are you here Malfoy?" She was entirely, one hundred percent done with this encounter. It was long past the time for Malfoy's departure.

"I have a proposition for you." He offered.

"Concerning what?" She wanted absolutely nothing more to do with the man standing in her living room.

"What you mentioned last night." Now she was at an utter loss for words.

"Malfoy I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about, and even less patience for dealing with you and your rubbish this morning. I suggest you get to the point." Even as she spoke those words there was a tingling in the back of her mind. This morning when she was painfully probing her mind for any hints as to what had surpassed the previous night, all she found was emptiness. But now, she might actually have been able to retrieve something.

"_What are you actually doing here Malfoy?" She hadn't the faintest clue as to why someone of Malfoy's status would waste any of his time wallowing in a rundown bar like this one's._

"_I could ask you the same question." He ignored her question. How long have they been sitting here? Passing the time in silence, then filling the air with their jabs and bickering? A long time she'd bet. _

"_That's none of your business Malfoy." She figured, thanks to the many drivel newspapers back in London, there would be enough rumours on her disappearance circling around to give him some sort of idea as to the reason behind her departure. She refused to comment on the matter._

"_Snippy tonight aren't we Granger." Why couldn't he just finish his drink and leave? Like a normal person who could tell they weren't welcome. _

"_Go to hell Malfoy." Maybe it was the dreary weather that made it impossible for her to tolerate Malfoy tonight. Or maybe, it was Malfoy's sheer existence that made it impossible for her to endure Malfoy and his irksome persona at any given time._

"_Already there." He said._

"_What's that supposed to mean Malfoy?" She knew exactly what it was supposed to mean. But this is what they did. They quarrelled, and fought, until a nerve was hit, and harsh tones and harsher words were spoken, then they'd dispute some more, until both stormed off seething and cursing the very ground the other walked on. _

"_Just that your presence is undeniably delightful." He offered what she assumed was his fakest sincere smile possible. _

"_Yes, because to be in your presence is such a tremendous endowment." She rolled her eyes. _

"_Glad you agree." He spoke. _

_Then only silence filled the space between them. They sat like that for Merlin knows how long. Each respectively caught up in their own thoughts. Neither ready to break the silence just yet. Was it better to be defensive or offensive in these kinds of engagements? Have the advantage of surprise, or prepare for attack and never let them get to you? Either way, since their first encounter each had set out their respective roles. Only on the peculiar occasion, when conditions were exceptional, did they alter their preferred stances. _

"_Seriously Granger, why are you here?" She could continue to argue with him. She could continue being as perverse as a mule. And with anyone else, she probably would. But honestly, Malfoy could be just as stubborn as she, and the idea of talking in circles around the same subject for who know how long was giving her a worse migraine than the alcohol and Malfoy's presence combined. _

"_No snide remarks Malfoy. I mean it." She glanced at him to see him visibly struggle not to make a comment. That alone might be worth some of this trouble. "There's something that's missing in my life. And I want to find what it is."_

"_Perhaps a decent hair cut would do the trick." That was a lie. Or at least she thought so. Since Hogwarts her hair had mellowed out significantly. It was as if without the impending danger she faced every day at Hogwarts, she could finally relax, and with that so could her hair. _

"_Sod off Malfoy." That's what she got for attempting to be civil with Malfoy. _

"_Honestly Granger, what did you expect?" He had a point. There was no civility amongst them. It was foolish to even attempt it._

_Again a moment of silence filled the air. Why was she even still here? But what else would she do? She hadn't had human interaction with anyone in weeks. Aside from the bartenders and waitresses which don't count. And she's seen absolutely no one from her world. As much as she tried to lie to herself, that Malfoy's presence was an absolute hindrance and that she would be better stalking out of the bar, never to see him again, she was slightly relieved that she wasn't completely segregated from the world where she belonged. Even if it was her choice to temporarily abandon it without a second thought. _

"_What could this place possibly offer you?" Malfoy broke the silence for a second time._

"_What?" Hermione asked, not understanding why he hadn't already dropped the topic. _

"_Why here? What does this place have to offer that you can't find in the back of a neglected alley?" Was Malfoy joking? She couldn't be certain._

"_Aye, I 'eard that." Sam muttered from across the bar. Hermione laughed. Typical Malfoy, commenting on the sole appearance of everything around him. He didn't see the beauty in this little bar that she did, the stories the walls told, the strength in the building that held it up after all these years. Most of its beauty seemed to have fleeted a long time ago, but didn't that only add to its splendour? Because it had a past, full of moments of thousands of people, laughter and sorrows, and experience. She should speak up about what she thought of this building, but based on the way Sam examined it every so often, drinking in everything that this building is and everything this building ever was, she'd say he already knew. _

_Malfoy didn't offer any sort of apology to Sam, as anticipated. Instead he continued pressing the matter at hand, as only Malfoy can do, "How do you expect to find what's missing if all you do is sit in a lowly bar?" _

"_This isn't all I do for your information Malfoy." She sneered. _

"_So you say." He seemed inclined to get on every one of her last nerves. "What are you searching for anyway Granger?" He inquired._

"_I have no bloody clue." The words of confirmation tasted bitter on her tongue. Of all people to admit to that she was at a loss for what to do next, she had to say it in front of Malfoy. _

"_So you're just going to what? Do a bunch of things you never got the chance to do and hope something sticks?" He laughed at the idea of wasting time on something that sounds so frivolous._

"_Careful Malfoy, you're starting to sound like a muggle." She muttered the last word under her breath, hoping it would only reach the ears that it was intended to._

"_That's preposterous Granger, how could I ever sound like that of a lowly muggle?" He too was careful to keep his sentence hushed and away from inquisitive ears. Not that there was anyone else in the bar other than Sam at this point. _

"_It just sounded like you were going to start talking about this craze that muggles are really into these days that's all." She kept her tone flat, disinterested even. But she could tell by the sideways glance Malfoy gave her that he was at least the slightest bit interested in what she was talking about._

"_What kind of craze are you going on about Granger?" His words coated with a patronising tone, as if to downplay his obvious interest in the turn their conversation had taken. _

"_It's just this dumb thing where muggles create a list of things they want to do in life, and try and complete it before they die." Hermione spoke, twirling the contents in her glass as she feigned interest. "It's supposed to keep life interesting, and _ensure_ that you live your life to the fullest by getting to do everything you've ever dreamed of doing."_

_She was surprised that instead of making a quick remark about the absurdity of such an obviously muggle idea, Malfoy had actually remained quiet._

_She was beginning to worry about the silence that sat between them. _What could Malfoy_ possibly_ be thinking about? _She wondered. She waited a few moments longer, wondering if she was sincerely worried that something might be fatally wrong, or if the alcohol was playing to her Gryffindor nature that begged to help those in need. _

"_Let's do it." His words hung in the balance, threatening to tip the scale of all that was right in the world. Was he serious? There's no way he was actually _serious_. They couldn't spend fifteen minutes in each other's company without threatening to hex one another into another dimension, let alone actually attempt to accomplish anything together._

_She sat in her stool, jaw hanging as low as it physically could, gaping at him like a very unattractive fish. If Malfoy thought this was a good idea for a joke, he was severely mistaken. This was _not_ funny._

"_Are you serious?" She finally summed up the strength to speak again. However her question didn't need a verbal answer. She could see it written all over his face. For once, Malfoy had let himself become readable. And what she saw on his face was no emotion what so ever. No looks of hate or disgust, no anger, not even that smirk that almost never left his features. _

_She only spotted one sign that there was still life inside the man before her. Looking into his silver eyes there was a glint that had surfaced almost immediately. Even more concerning than the sudden light in his eyes was that she couldn't identify the emotion behind it. He may have let his face show all seriousness, but he'd kept his eyes protected. She couldn't tell what it was he was thinking about, or what he might be planning. _

"_You're drunk Malfoy." She brushed off the preposterous suggestion. _

"_Possibly, even so, why not?"_

"_I could give you a million reasons _why not._" Her hushed voice raising in volume with each word. He smirked, the left side of his lip tilting upward, challenging her statement._

"_First of all," She continued, "We don't like each other. And I mean we _really _don't like each other. Secondly, why would I want to waste my time with you when I not even my best friends are here accompanying me on this, this thing." By the end of her sentence she was at a loss for words. Wasn't the reason good enough? Why did he want to do this anyway?!_

"_That was hardly a million reasons Granger."_

"_Oh sod off Malfoy." She huffed, gathering her things. Upon noticing her preparation for departure Sam slipped Hermione her tab for the night, which she signed and proceeded to place enough muggle change on the counter to cover it, and a decently sized tip._

"_Granger-" He started._

"_I'm going home now Malfoy." She cut him off, not sparing him a second glance. _

"_At least think about it Granger!" He called as she neared the door._

_She didn't waste her breath on an answer for him. Instead she stepped out into the rain and began making her very clumsy journey home._

"You were serious." She whispered more to herself than to him. Of course she _knew _he moment he said it, not even Malfoy would joke about something like that. But it felt like a whole new level of shock had just hit her as if she was only just finding out about this. Technically she was. She made a note to only consume higher amounts of alcohol than she could handle around people she was one hundred percent comfortable with.

She watched as he stood in front of her, awaiting her response. "Malfoy I don't know if you got hit on the head or something a few days ago, but there is absolutely no way I am participating in any of this. I want _no _part in any of this." She made herself clear.

"Granger how long has it been since you left London, a few weeks?" With a nod of confirmation from her he continued. "And what exactly have you accomplished?"

"I have a job." She forced confidence and pride into her voice. She knew there was nothing astonishing about working in a café, but she couldn't let herself back down to Malfoy.

"Granger you _had _a job in London." He countered.

"Well, now I have a better one." She lied. And he could tell.

"Bollocks."

"Well, so what Malfoy? Maybe I'll just do it on my own." She huffed.

"You won't." He crossed his arms.

"And why, is it exactly that I won't?" She demanded.

"You need my help Granger." He seemed rather confident in his answer.

"I absolutely most certainly do not!" She yelled. The idea that he thought she would _ever _need his help was laughable. She'd gone through much worse than whatever this was that she was going through right now, and she'd survived just fine _without _his help.

"First or all Granger, you're not a risk taker-" He began.

"Who says I want to do anything risky Malfoy." She sneered.

"Everything in life involves a little risk Granger. And you're someone who needs more than a push in the right direction to even attempt anything remotely hazardous." _You won't find anything worth searchin' for if you don't take a few risks along the way lass, _Sam's advice rang through her mind. So what if Malfoy happened to have hit the nail on the head. The only way she'd go along with whatever he was planning, was if hell froze over at the precise moment she saw flying pigs.

"That's not a _bad_ thing Malfoy. Not everyone needs to be reckless in order to have fun." She was pretty sure he muttered something along the lines of 'some Gryffindor' under his breath. But before she got a chance to hound on him for that comment he was already speaking.

"That's such a Granger thing to say." He said, effectively cutting off any attempt she was about to make at speaking. "Secondly, you don't have enough money for something like this."

"For you information Ferret, I have plenty of money in my vault back in London." At least that was something she could be confident about. She had been rewarded a hefty sum of money from the Ministry, most of which has been untouched since the day she put it in her vault.

"That's all fine and dandy Granger, but are you willing to go back to London and chance being seen by the Daily Prophet? Or worse, Potter and Weasley?" He had a point. If she hadn't thought of those drawbacks earlier she would have returned some time ago to withdraw a little more cash to get by on. As Hermione Granger it wasn't easy to go anywhere in the wizarding world without being spotted. Thus the reason behind her shabby apartment and her job as a waitress at the local café.

"More to the point Granger, I doubt you'd spend your money on something that you haven't spent days contemplating, _after_ thoroughly listing each pro and con on the matter, of course." He was baiting her, and he knew she was easy to bait. Hell, she knew she was easy to bait. But she couldn't just not fight back.

"Oh of course Malfoy." He made it sound like she hadn't the slightest clue how to live and have fun. Well she'd show him. If he thought this was his game, that in some delusional part of his mind that he had the advantage, the upper hand, he was sorely mistaken.

"What's in this for you Malfoy?" She demanded, still not knowing the exact reason behind his willingness to do something like this.

"Just say you'll help me out with something when the time comes." He broke eye contact as he spoke.

"Malfoy, if you think I'd willingly go along with one of your schemes and not know what you're getting out of it, you obviously don't know me as well as you like to think you do." He was delusional. "So you can either tell me right now _why _ you're doing this, and _what_ you're getting out of this, or you will vacate the premises immediately." She'd hex him to Hogwarts if she had to.

"Granger." She didn't ever get her answer. As for the first time in all of her life, she felt a sense of desperation in Malfoy's tone. There was a strain in his voice, as if he was silently pleading with her. If Malfoy was desperate enough to let some of his desperation seep into his voice, then he truly, sincerely needed her to not push for an immediate answer. It was not the first time that she found herself cursing her sympathetic nature, and let the subject drop.

"Okay Malfoy, listen up, and listen good. If whatever it is that you want me to do for you somehow goes against any of my morals, and I mean even the smallest bit, or if it's something that makes me remotely uncomfortable this entire arrangement is off." She studied his body language, hoping to find something that told her what it was he was willing to show even the smallest amounts of vulnerability to keep concealed.

His body was tense. The muscles in his shoulders and forearms unusually pronounced. His jaw clenched, eyes averted. His hair was on the longer side, making it even harder to read his facial features. She hadn't realised how tall he was, till she studied him like this. At a little over six feet he was just on the lanky side. But it was obvious he could handle just about anything that posed a threat.

She watched as he turned his body to face hers, his Malfoy smirk back in place. And nodded in agreement. It was obvious that he knew this was as much as he was going to get from her without telling her the real reason behind his intentions. However, he'd be a fool to let himself think that she'd let this go on for too much longer before he had no other option to confess his reasoning to her, or find someone else to his bidding.

It was decided. She was working with Malfoy, from here on out, to find what life had in store for her. After the quickest exchange the two of them had had in the past twelve hours, Malfoy said he needed to sort a few things out before things progressed any further, and promised to be back within the hour.

"By the way Granger, only lunatics live thirteen floors above ground level in a place with no lift" He said before making his way towards the door. If only he could walk out of her life as effortlessly as he could walk out of her apartment. _Only Malfoy,_ she thought, still chuckling from the bubble of laughter that she was unable to supress due to his final comment.

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**So! There you go! The third chapter of the bucket list! Long Chapter! Yay!**

**Short update: Exams for me are in a month (less actually) so I've really got to crack down hard on my school work for a bit. Plus a few other parts of my life are falling behind, but I'm going to try my best to keep writing for you, although as only fair, I'm going to be concentrating mostly on Capella, the winner of my first chapter contest, and all my other stories will be like side projects.**

**Please check out some of my other stories, if you like some of them let me know, and maybe you'll inspire me to put up a new chapter ASAP ;)**

**-As always, review, let me know what you think. Thoughts, ideas, wishes, and predictions about what will happen later on (what Malfoy wants from Granger in exchange perhaps,) **

** -Love you lots, xoxo Dini**


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